Article

"Highlights of Translation Studies in China Since the Mid-Nineteenth Century"

Shouyi Fan
Meta : journal des traducteurs / Meta: Translators' Journal, vol. 44, n° 1, 1999, p. 27-43.

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 titre du chapitre 27

Highlights of Translation Studies in China

Since the Mid-Nineteenth Century

shouyi fan
Beijing Foreign Affairs College,
Beijing, China

RÉSUMÉ
Cet article présente les idées des chercheurs chinois en traductologie au cours des
100 dernières années. Dès le commencement de la troisième vague de traduction, des
intellectuels patriotes réclament des écoles de traduction afin de relever le défi venu de
l’Occident, d’autres introduisent la littérature et la philosophie occidentales en Chine. De
nombreux problèmes de traduction surgissent, les traducteurs et les chercheurs discu-
tent des critères à respecter, des méthodes à adopter et des façons d’évaluer la qualité de
la traduction. En même temps que la Chine entrait dans une nouvelle ère, la traduction
se développait et les études de traduction fleurissaient ; toutes ces activités continuent de
progresser et de se développer de façon ordonnée. Une nouvelle vague s’amorce, rappro-
chant la Chine du monde extérieur.

ABSTRACT
This article attempts to highlight the thoughts of some of the prominent figures in
translation studies over the past hundred years or so. With the onset of the third wave in
translation activities, some patriotic scholars called for the establishment of translator
training schools to meet the challenges coming from the West, while others set about
introducing Western literature and philosophy into China. In the course of translating,
problems cropped up, translators and scholars began to argue about what criteria they
should follow, what methods they should use, and how to judge the quality of translation.
As China moved into a new era, translation activities boomed and translation studies
flourished, all proceeding in an orderly fashion and on a mass scale. A new wave emerged,
bringing China closer to the outside world.

The third wave of translation started when China was forced to open her doors to the
imperialist powers from the West in the mid-nineteenth century. Military invasions,
commercial adventures, and cultural influences from the West combined to awaken
China’s intelligentsia to the fact that China was no longer the Central Kingdom of the
world, and that they needed to learn from the West before being able to meet impe-
rialist rivals on equal terms. Liang Qichao (1873-1929), a traditional scholar and
reformist, leader of the aborted Hundred-Day Reform, and head of the Jing Shi
Academy and Translation Bureau, was perspicacious about the fact that the Western
powers knew a lot more about China than China knew about them. He believed this
contributed to China’s repeated military defeats in the mid-nineteenth century.

FACING THE CHALLENGE

To remedy the situation in which Western countries had learned much about China
by translating Chinese works, while China knew little about Western countries, Liang
Qichao came up with two proposals:

Meta, XLIV, 1, 1999

28 Meta, XLIV, 1, 1999

First, let scholars of the country master Western languages from childhood; second,
have books written by Westerners translated into Chinese—books that are of practical
use to us. Failure to do either will get us nowhere. To realize the first goal, however, we
will have to wait for a decade before we are able to see any tangible result. Yet, if we do
as suggested in the second proposal, then, once a book is published, every aspiring
scholar in China will be able to benefit from it. ([Liang Qichao 1897] Editorial Board
1984a: 9-10)
Liang further argued that the reason European countries had become so strong was
that they had translated Greek and Roman classics into their respective languages.
For that matter, Peter the Great had collected books from Western countries and had
them rendered into Russian, and the Japanese did likewise during the Meiji Restora-
tion. Liang, therefore, considered the translation of books published in Western
countries “the most essential of all essential undertakings to accomplish” in speeding
up the process of learning from the West and thereby making China strong ([Liang
Qichao 1897] Editorial Board 1984a: 10). Liang refuted the notion held by some
conservatives that enough Western books had been translated in the 50 years since
the opening of China’s seaports to Western powers. Liang realized that hundreds of
thousands of books were published each year in the West, and that as soon as a new
theory came into being, the old theory would die out. Nevertheless, uninformed
Chinese scholars often still treasured outdated theories already cast aside by Western-
ers ([Liang Qichao 1897] Editorial Board 1984a: 11). Liang Qichao’s observation in
this regard was correct, and the translation of new books was needed to replenish
China’s knowledge about Western developments.
Liang agreed with Ma Jianzhong (1845-1900), a noted scholar and author of
China’s first grammar book, which he modeled on Latin grammar, over the unsatis-
factory state of affairs with regard to works of translation:
Translators of today, with their rudimentary command of the foreign language, are
unable to give the proper equivalents to render the nuances of meaning or archaisms of
that language; or, though being well-schooled in a foreign language, are only capable of
producing a version in Chinese that sounds provincial and slangy, which indicates that
they have not yet been properly initiated into the art of translation. If people like them
should ever be allowed to do the translating, then the translation they give would often
make their readers feel sick at reading such jerky Chinese, and they would have to leave
the volume unfinished. Or if we resort to a Westerner who has a smattering knowledge
of Chinese for verbal translation of a work, and let the Chinese scholar record the
gist of what he has just heard, then very often he would arbitrarily insert his own ideas
into the context, which he considers to be inadequately expressed, thus falling short of
the expectation of conveying the original idea. It can be seen, therefore, that those who
are versed in a foreign language cannot express themselves in proper Chinese, while
those who are masters of Chinese cannot understand the foreign language—little won-
der the books thus translated are often found to be full of turns of phrase of mixed
levels, styled and usages, expressions that are verbose, circumlocutory and erroneous.
Such glaring errors have often been spotted and ridiculed by well-informed scholars.
([Liang Qichao 1897] Editorial Board 1984a: 11; see also [Ma Jianzhong 1894] Editorial
Board 1984a: 2)
Faced with this challenge, Liang decided that three things needed to be done
right away: first, select the right books for translating; second, lay out rules and
conventions for translating; and third, train competent translators.
 highlights of translation studies 29
titre du chapitre

What, then are the right books to translate? According to Liang, works dealing
with military science could be dropped out of consideration. He believed that, while
on the surface the Western powers appeared to have great military strength, what had
made them strong was not the building of military force itself, but the development
of basic science courses such as mathematics, electronics, chemistry, hydrodynamics,
etc., which worked together to contribute to the growth of their military prowess.
That was why the Qing (1644-1911) government, though the beneficiary of many
works of military science translated in the past, still found itself unable to resist the
onslaught of Western invasions ([Liang Qichao 1897] Editorial Board 1984a: 11). In
Liang’s vision, a stronger China could only emerge from a more substantial founda-
tion in these sciences. It was therefore of primary importance to translate Western
charters, constitutions, and civil, criminal and commercial laws, into Chinese so that
China could reform its own legal system by modeling itself on Western systems. The
next category should include the translation of historical works, including histories
of agriculture, commerce and trade, arts and crafts, mining, communication, physics,
and of “blue papers” chronicling events of the year. Progress in these fields could be
traced and followed and provide references for China’s own reforms. Works specific
to agriculture, mining, commerce, physics, geometry, algebra, and such should be
translated for the purpose of training new generations of professionals. Liang sug-
gested that these works be translated in order of priority, and that some, such as
books dealing with agriculture and arts and crafts, be rendered in plain Chinese
for easy reading by less well-educated readers ([Liang Qichao 1897] Editorial Board
1984a: 13-15).
The second challenge was to formulate conventions for translators to follow
when translating. Most troublesome was the translation of proper names, be they
personal names or place names. Often, the same name in an Occidental language
could be rendered using various combinations of Chinese characters, so that readers
often took them to be different persons or places. This occurred partly because the
translators happened to be from different parts of China and spoke different dialects.
To allow all translators to follow the same transliteration rules for translating proper
names, Liang favoured using the English pronunciation as the norm for representing
all sounds in Occidental languages, while Beijing dialect, which was familiar to all
speakers of Chinese, could be used for translating foreign names. A grid chart could
then be devised to represent all sounds of foreign languages by using particular
Chinese characters to map the cells cross-determined by combinations of consonants
and vowels in the Chinese language. There were further problems translating terms
indicating official or military rank, especially when the ranking systems of the two
countries in question did not correspond. In situations where there was no corre-
spondence between a Chinese rank and a foreign rank, transliteration could be em-
ployed to create a word for that foreign rank in Chinese. A list of ranking terms had
to be made for ease of reference. Translating the names of things that were unheard
of in China was a third difficulty. In such cases, either an existing Chinese character
which stood for an old thing would be borrowed to designate the new thing, or an
entirely new word would be coined for this purpose, with a phonetic component to
give the sound of the thing and a cardinal component to indicate its property. For
example, the translation of the names of some chemical elements would couple a
cardinal form which symbolized a metal [« ], with a phonetic component which
30 Meta, XLIV, 1, 1999

imitates the sound of the first syllable of the name in English, [v ], thus forming a
new Chinese character t or “xin” [zinc]. Next was the translation of weights, mea-
sures, and currencies. Again Liang proposed that a conversion table be drawn up to
offer ready references for translating in either direction. For currencies, a translitera-
tion of the name of the monetary system should be preferred. Coming last in Liang’s
list of translation challenges is the use of different calendars by different countries,
like the Chinese lunar calendar, Christian Gregorian calendar, the Indian calendar,
the Islamic calendar, and the Japanese calendar. According to Liang, the mode of
numbering years should follow the practice of the country from which the work was
being translated, with the corresponding birthday anniversary of the Chinese Sage
Confucius and the anniversary of a given dynasty provided as a side-note for easy
reference ([Liang Qichao 1897] Editorial Board 1984a: 15-18).
As regards the training of translators, a brief note must be made before discuss-
ing Liang Qichao and Ma Jianzhong’s proposal. The idea of setting up a translator
training school was, in fact, not entirely new, as we mentioned in the opening para-
graph above. What Liang and Ma were proposing to do, after a hiatus of two decades
in which no young people had been sent abroad for training, was to reiterate the need
to train bilingual professionals, but inside China. Liang noted that the best translators
were those fluent in both the foreign language and Chinese, who were also specialists
in the field to which the work pertained. Next best was the translator who meet two
of these three requirements; meeting only one of the three requirements meant that
someone could not be trusted with the work of translation ([Liang Qichao 1897]
Editorial Board 1984a: 19). Of the three requirements, expertise in a specific disci-
pline outweighed the consideration of mastering both the mother tongue and a
foreign language. To train translators and interpreters who could meet these three
requirements, translation schools had to be set up. According to Ma Jianzhong, two
classes of students could be enrolled. One class would consist of students about
20 years old who had already mastered either English or French. These students
would be schooled in classical Chinese, that is, essays by well-known scholars of the
Tang (618-907) and Song dynasties (960-1279), and further back to those of the
Zhou (476-256 B.C.) and Qin dynasties (221-207 B.C.), while continuing to study
their chosen foreign languages. They would be assigned to translate from English or
French into Chinese as a way of practicing their translation skills as part of their
routine tasks. The other class of students would also be around 20 years of age, but
would be well-versed in classic Chinese. They would be tutored in English or French
for two years, followed by specialized courses in mathematics, chemistry, physics, law,
etc. Before long, these students would be able to translate works from English or
French into Chinese competently and accurately ([Liang Qichao 1897] Editorial
Board 1984a: 11; see also [Ma Jianzhong 1894] Editorial Board 1984a: 2). While Liang
Qichao and Ma Jianzhong endeavored to turn their idea into reality, some mature
scholars were already trying their hand at translating.

THE PIONEERS

At the forefront were two celebrated men of letters, Lin Shu, a traditional Chinese
scholar, and Yan Fu, a Western-educated scholar. The former translated mostly fic-
 highlights of translation studies 31
titre du chapitre

tion, while the latter focused on philosophical works, but both rendered a great
service to the Chinese nation by introducing new ways of thinking.
Although Lin Shu (1852-1924) did not speak any foreign languages, he penned
elegant classic Chinese translations of Occidental texts with collaborators who could
speak foreign tongues with varying degrees of fluency, but could not translate the
works they read into the appropriate Chinese.1 Lin published some 222 works of
translation, including a few non-fiction texts (Zhang Juncai 1992: 291-323). In many
of the prefaces to his translations, Lin included random notes discussing his experi-
ences in translating, and selecting collaborators, and discussing the similarities and
differences between Western and Chinese grammar, dialects and styles, as well as the
differences between writing and translating.
Lin Shu said in his Preface to Old Curiosity Shop,
I do not speak any Western languages, yet somehow or other, I found myself laboring
hard as a translator, working with two or three gentlemen who gave me verbal rendi-
tions of the works for translation; I tried to capture the story so related and put it down
on paper; when my collaborator stopped, I also stopped writing. Thus, working within
the short space of four hours a day, we could manage to produce a six-thousand-
character long translation. Inevitably a hundred and one errors must have occurred in
my translation. However, many generous readers, not showing any contempt for my
careless work, bought the books and read them. That is my luck. ([Lin Shu 1907] Luo
Xinzhang 1984: 177-178)
Lin was a proliferate translator who worked at incredible speed and enjoyed doing
the job.
In his Foreword to YiLin, Lin (1984b) recalled his attempt to find the right
collaborator for the translation of a biography of Napoleon Bonaparte. The illustra-
tions in the book depicted the heroic figure of a brave soldier and supreme com-
mander, which made Lin think that the language of the text had to match the man’s
calibre. He chose a language similar to that used by Sima Qian (?145 or 135-90? B.C.),
a historian of the West Han Dynasty (206 B.C.-A.D.24), in his description of the
fallen hero Xiang Yu. Lin asked his three long-time collaborators for assistance in
translating this work, but each declined. They were wise enough to consider them-
selves incompetent for the task as they were not men made for writing history. Lin
then turned to a Frenchman for help, who likewise balked at the request. This in-
stance shows that a translator cannot handle works of all styles ([Lin Shu 1900] Luo
Xinzhang 1984: 161-162).
In Lin’s “Remarks about Uncle Tom’s Cabin” (1984c), he compared the composi-
tion techniques and grammar of Chinese and English, and came to the conclusion
that there were as many similarities as differences between the two languages. He
seemed very pleased with his translation, for he forewarned prospective readers not
to disparage the original work, implying that the artistry of the original work was not
as good as the translation ([Lin Shu 1905] Luo Xinzhang 1984: 162-163). Many
readers did enjoy his translations—including Zhou Zuoren and Qian Zhongshu who
then discovered an interest in translation and began to translate foreign works for
publication themselves (Zhou Zuoren 1920; Zhang Juxiang and Zhang Tierong 1986:
301-303; [Qian Zhongshu 1979] Luo Xinzhang 1986: 721-722).
In his “Preface to Ivanhoe” (1984d), Lin made an analogy between narrative
writing and tanci, a southern Chinese version of the ballad accompanied by the Pipa,
32 Meta, XLIV, 1, 1999

an ancient lute-like instrument. He remembered a blind tanci performer from his

native province of Fujian, who could mimic the dialects of areas south of the Yangtze,
Hunan, Shanxi, Henan, Hebei, or Shandong, that were spoken by the characters in his
tanci story. “It is pretty much the same as this work,” Lin Shu said. The “retelling of
a hero’s deeds must be commensurate with the spirit of the hero. The thief ’s words
must reflect his trade, and the retold utterances of a stubborn mule of a man must
match that character” ([Lin Shu 1905] Luo Xinzhang 1984: 167-168). Having cap-
tured the distinctive verbal features of each of the speakers in the work, Lin succeeded
in breathing life into the characters in his translations.
In his “Preface to Robinson Crusoe” (1984e), Lin noted the difference between
translating and writing, saying,
Translating is unlike writing. The writer can write about what he has seen or heard,
either in vague expressions or in detailed descriptions, that is to say, he can write about
whatever subject and in whatever manner he likes. However, when it comes to translat-
ing, the translator is confined to relating what has already been written about, how is it,
then, possible for him to adulterate the translation with his own views? When religious
inculcations are found in the original text, he must translate them; how can he purge his
translation of that discourse just for tabboo’s sake? Hence, translation must be done
exactly like what has been written in the original. ([Lin Shu 1905] Luo Xinzhang 1984:
169-170)
Although Lin Shu could not read foreign works in the original, he could still
detect the minute differences in style of works by different authors. He commented in
his “Preface to Dombey and Son” (1984f),
The writer who writes the best English is Sir Walter Scott; the writer who writes the best
French is Alexandre Dumas fils, I have translated both of them. However, Scott reads
somewhat flaccid in style while Dumas’ composition is not compact, both leaving the
reader very little room for digesting upon closing the book. However, Charles Dickens
alone is able to write skillfully in a manner much the same as playing the go game: the
master places a casual piece on the go checkerboard, and after scores of rounds of
placement, it goes back to link up with that piece which was seemingly casually posi-
tioned before, thus finishing the encirclement for a sweeping victory. The placement of
this key piece was made well before his opponent sensed the menace; or in other words,
a seed had been inseminated unnoticed even before the embryo was conceived. Because
this hint was so apparently insignificant at first reading, the translator would not dare
skip over it, however trivial the thing might appear to be, for fear of failure to echo that
hint as the story developed. Zhongshu, my collaborator didn’t heed this for quite a long
while until I told him what I suspected. And so, the two of us went on working away at
the book, with tacit understanding—he related the story and I wrote it down. And as
the translation grew longer and longer, we were much impressed by the subtleties and
abstruseness of the original work, feeling that we were being led step by step into the
artistic world created by the author. ([Lin Shu 1909] Luo Xinzhang 1984: 181-182)
Lin’s experience is proof that only once a translator becomes totally immersed in a
work can he grasp the intention of the text and produce a good translation. A rash
translator would often work in great haste and, as a result, his work would fail to
exhibit the kind of textual coherence and cohesion that are found in the original.
A complete list of Lin Shu’s works can be found in Zhang Juncai (1992: 291-323).
According to Zhang Juancai, Lin published a total of 222 works, plus 24 manuscripts.
About one third of Lin’s translations have some literary value, while the rest are
 highlights of translation studies 33
titre du chapitre

simply trash, written by second- or third-rate writers ([Zheng Zhenduo 1924] Luo
Xinzhang 1984: 187). Lin even turned Shakespeare’s plays into stories, which appar-
ently was not Lin’s fault, for as he said “he didn’t know it.” Not speaking a foreign
language himself, Lin was not in a position to choose which books he translated. It
was inevitable that some of the books he translated were not of much literary value.
Zheng, however, rated Cervantes’ Don Quixote, Scott’s Ivanhoe, and Dickens’ Oliver
Twist and Old Curiosity Shop among the 40 or so better translations Lin had done
([Zheng Zhenduo 1924] Luo Xinzhang 1984: 189). Lin Shu tried his best to be
faithful to the original both in content and style, and put the name of the original
author on the front page of the translation, a rare occurrence among the Shanghai
translators of his time ([Zheng Zhenduo 1924] Luo Xinzhang 1984: 190). Zheng
sums up Lin’s contributions to translation in China as follows: at a time when China
had been forcibly opened to the outside world for about half a century, Chinese
people still knew little about the rest of the world and Lin’s translations served as an
eye-opener. Although some Chinese were misled into thinking that China was weak
because it lacked a modern arsenal, shipyards, railways, and other material things, the
Chinese remained proud of their literary heritage and a long list of prestigious histo-
rians, essayists, poets and playwrights. Little did they know that there were equally
worthy authors, writers, and poets in the “barbarian world”. Novel writing had met
with the contempt of Chinese men of letters for thousands of years until Lin, a
scholar with a classical education, began to translate Western novels in elegant classic
Chinese. Lin asserted that some Western authors were comparable to China’s Sima
Qian, a great historian of the West Han Dynasty. However, Qian Zhongshu (1910)
resisted the claim that Lin Shu used classical Chinese in his translation. The Chinese
Lin used was not the recondite language of previous millenia, but one made simpler
and plainer to understand and use. It was more flexible in syntax and word forma-
tion, and allowed colloquialisms, Occidentalized expressions and new coinages to
appear in context ([Qian Zhongshu 1979] Luo Xinzhang 1984: 712-719).
Yan Fu (1854-1921), a contemporary of Lin Shu, is considered to be the first
person to introduce Western philosophical works to modern China. Unlike Lin Shu
who translated with the assistance of others, Yan Fu did the translation himself,
having studied military science at a British Navy Academy. For the complete story of
Yan Fu’s career and accomplishments, read Dr. Kefei Wang’s On the Intake of the
Western Thought of Political Philosophy in Modern China and Japan—Yan Fu and
Japanese Thinkers. Here, I will give just a brief account of Yan’s theoretical contribu-
tion to China’s translation studies, so as to provide a balanced picture of the early
part of the modern era. The most important of Yan Fu’s contributions was his three-
character criteria, which stated:
Translating is difficult in three aspects, namely, xin (z “faithfulness”), da (\ “read-
ability”), and ya (Ø “refinement”). To aspire to perfection in faithfulness is rather
difficult. However, to make the translation faithful without being readable is equal to
having no translation at all. Hence the relative importance of readability. ([Yan Fu 1898]
Editorial Board 1984a: 6)
These are the three-character criteria that have been the subject of debate for almost
a century. Yan Fu derived the criteria from his understanding of the differences
between Western languages and Chinese. He suggested that the translator:
34 Meta, XLIV, 1, 1999

grasp the global spirit of the discourse, let the idea become part of your mind and then
let the writing brush take care of itself. When it comes to an abstruse text, which cannot
be understood all by itself, try to paraphrase it by adding explanatory remarks either
afore or aft, to bring out its meaning. This is done for the purpose of making the version
readable; to be readable is to be faithful. ([Yan Fu 1898] Editorial Board 1984a: 6)
Yan, as a seasoned translator, knew that readability was essential to make readers read,
but it was not sufficient. As Confucius the Sage said: “an utterance that is not refined
cannot go afar,” Yan Fu concluded that the three points in question should be:
the norms for the craft of composition, and they are, in a similar vein, guidelines for the
practice of translating. Hence, besides xin (“faithfulness”) and da (“readability”), one
should also pay attention to ya (“refinement”). This is not only to let the text reach a
wider audience; as a matter of fact, the discourse is so profound and full of nuances of
meaning, it can only be made readable with ease by using the lexicons and grammar of
the pre-Han period of two millennia ago; whereas it is difficult to use the current vulgar
tongue to produce a refined version. ([Yan Fu 1898] Editorial Board 1984a: 6)
He Lin (1902-1991) observed that it was Yan Fu who first put forth the three-
character criteria, and later translators, whether wittingly or unwittingly, were all
guided by these criteria in their practice of translation ([He Lin 1925] Editorial Board
1984a: 117). And in “Ever Since Yan Fu and His Criteria of Translation,” Shouyi Fan
found correspondences between Yan’s criteria and those of A. F. Tyler (1790), which
stated that a translation should reproduce the thought of the original completely, the
style and manner of writing should be the same as those of the original, and the
translation should have the same ease as the original composition (Shouyi Fan 1991:
61-70). All discussion on translation criteria centers around these three aspects, what-
ever names are used to describe them.
How does the quality of Yan’s own translations rate against his own criteria? He
Lin repeated the criticisms of his contemporaries in his “Yan Fu’s Translations,” when
he stated that “Evolution and Ethics and Spirit of Law were the worst specimens of
translation [...] all because of his irresponsible attitude towards the original authors;
he was responsible only to himself” (Fu Sinian); that “his translations were elegant,
intelligible to readers of his time” (Cai Yuanpei); that “Yan had managed to make his
translations readable thanks to his pretty excellent command of English and Chinese,
and his assiduity and punctiliousness” (Hu Shi). Hu Xianxiao thought highly of Yan’s
translations, saying that Yan’s works of translation met all three criteria ([He Lin
1925] Editorial Board 1984a: 117-118). He Lin commented that Yan’s earlier transla-
tions were done by the “sense method,” which was felt to be too free, while his later
translations were done by the “literal method,” and were less criticized ([He Lin 1925]
Editorial Board 1984a: 119).
Yan Fu’s translations of Western philosophical works played a large part in incul-
cating the Chinese mind with ideas of democracy, which hastened the downfall of the
last Dynasty of China. Yan Fu’s contribution to China’s translation studies was
equally significant, though the soundness of his theory is still challenged today. One
scholar’s exposition on translation criteria complemented Yan’s three-character crite-
ria; his name was Lin Yutang.
 highlights of translation studies 35
titre du chapitre

A RATIONAL INTERPRETATION
Lin Yutang (1895-1976), a proliferate writer and scholar, wrote an article on transla-
tion which gave a perspicacious summary of several controversial issues of the time.
According to him there were no ready-made rules to follow in translating; only
technical problems which needed to be discussed. One technical problem was the
criteria for judging translation, which he considered to be (1) fidelity (»6 “zhong-
shi”), (2) mellifluence (C’ “tongshun”), and (3) aesthetic quality (¯ “mei”). The
criteria Lin laid out coincide with the three-character criteria formulated by Yan Fu,
which are (1) faithfulness (z “xin”), (2) readability (\ “da”) and (3) refinement
(Ø “ya”). In Lin’s opinion, his criterion of “aesthetic quality” covered more than Yan’s
“refinement.” In both sets of criteria, point (1) concerns the translator’s faithfulness
to the original, considers a matter of responsibility to the original author; point (2)
concerns the translator’s fluency in Chinese, which is translator’s responsibility to
Chinese readers; and point (3) concerns translation’s relation to the arts, and raises
an artistic responsibility ([Lin Yutang 1933] Editorial Board 1984a: 260).
Other discussions about translation involved random comments on the trans-
lator’s working experiences, which were superficial observations. But Lin Yutang went
further, realizing that translation had to do with linguistics and psychology. Lin saw
faithfulness or fidelity as a matter of degree, that is, the quality of translation could be
assessed by determining if it was done by the literal method or “dead” method (an
“extreme form” of the literal method), or by the “sense” method or “imprudent”
method (an “extreme form” of the “sense” method) ([Lin Yutang 1933] Editorial
Board 1984a: 261-262). Casting aside the two extreme forms of translation, Lin went
on to say that the “literal method” (š^ “zhiyi”) and “sense method” (S^ “yiyi”)
were two misnomers. He believed people could not help taking the “literal method”
to mean “word-for-word” literal method, and would then see the word-for-word
method as no different than the “dead” method of translating. Similarly, some trans-
lators boasted of their imprudently translated texts as being translated by the “sense
method,” which led some people to think that two sets of rules actually applied to the
process of translating, which was not true, according to Lin. “There should be only
one applicable criterion, and one appropriate technique too” ([Lin Yutang 1933] Edito-
rial Board 1984a: 262; italics are mine). But Lin went on to talk about “translation by
word” and “translation by sentence” as being two ways of translating. “Translation by
word” could be used where the translation was deemed correct from the context; and
“translation by sentence” had to be used where “translation by word” could not
render the “global meaning” of the sentence. The global meaning of a sentence could
not be derived a simple summation of the meanings of each and every individual
words making up that sentence. It could only be derived after grasping the global idea
of the sentence. If the translation happened to be a word-for-word match of the
original sentence, so much the better. Otherwise, the meaning of certain individual
words had to be ignored in order to catch the global meaning of the sentence ([Lin
Yutang 1933] Editorial Board 1984a: 263). To perceive a logical error in Lin’s argu-
mentation would be mistaken and imply a failure to follow his logic. According to
Lin, it is not a matter of saying “yes” to both “translation by word” and “translation
by sentence,” but a matter of “yes” or “no.” If “translation by word” is correct in a
particular context, then “translation by sentence” would be wrong, and vice versa
36 Meta, XLIV, 1, 1999

([Lin Yutang 1933] Editorial Board 1984a: 264). Hence “one applicable criterion” and
“one appropriate technique.”
Lin believed that “fidelity” did not necessarily mean a word-for-word correspon-
dence. He thought that the meaning of a word was formed by two parts; “fixed
meanings” and “variable meanings,” which made it impossible to realize word-
for-word correspondence in all cases ([Lin Yutang 1933] Editorial Board 1984a: 264).
He maintained that the translator not only had to transfer the meaning of a sentence,
but also the beyond-the-sentence meaning, or what he called the “feeling-tone,”
which was not an easy task. He further argued that one could not translate all facets
of a sentence at the same time—the basic meaning, the spirit, the implication, the
style, and the sound. Therefore there was no such thing as absolute faithfulness ([Lin
Yutang 1933] Editorial Board 1984a: 266-267). Next, Lin considered the problem of
mellifluence of translation. Like writing in the mother tongue, translating must pro-
ceed at the sentence level, that is, the translator must have a “total concept” of the
original sentence in mind before turning it into a Chinese sentence, which must be
constructed according to Chinese grammar. If the sentence were translated according
to the grammar of a Western language, the result could not be regarded as a Chinese
sentence. Therefore Lin was opposed to so-called Europeanized sentences, which
followed Western grammar too closely to be read smoothly in Chinese. When trans-
lating literary works, the translator also had to consider the aesthetic quality of the
translation, and make it comparable to that of the original work. The translator
therefore had to pay attention to the language used in translating; the language must
be beautiful. But, again, this is not an easy thing to do. Poetry, for example, a belle art
of the supreme form, cannot be rendered into a different language without losing
something ([Lin Yutang 1933] Editorial Board 1984a: 270-271). That something is
the style of the original work. Lin thought that the enjoyment of a piece of literary
work was not derived from the story but from the way it was told. The manner of
telling a story often revealed the writer’s style and the task of the translator was to
imitate that manner of writing. ([Lin Yutang 1933] Editorial Board 1984a: 271). The
problem of style had to do with the discussion of form, which Lin divided into “outer
form” and “inner form.” The “outer form” refers to the lengths of sentences, rhyming
schemes, meter, etc., while the “inner form” refers to those elements that bespeak a
writer’s idiosyncrasies, mentality, and moods. Lin disdained the use of “free verse” to
translate Western poetry, irrespective of the original blank or rhymed verse forms. He
called that a “prankish act” ([Lin Yutang 1933] Editorial Board 1984a: 271-272).

THE DEBATE
In 1930 there was a heated debate between Lu Xun (1881-1936) and Liang Shiqiu
(1902-1987) and Zhao Jingshen (1902-1985). Liang Shiqiu accused Lu Xun of mak-
ing hard translations, which were “next to literal translation. This fashion for literal
translation should not be encouraged” ([Lu Xun 1930] Lu Hsun 1959: 65). To Liang’s
accusation, Lu Xun replied,
Owing to my inadequacy as a translator and the limitations of the Chinese language,
upon reading through my translation I find it obscure and uneven, and in many places
very hard to understand. Yet if I were to cut the redundant phrases, it would lose its
 highlights of translation studies 37
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original flavour. As far as I am concerned, I must either go on producing these hard

translations, or produce none at all. I can only hope readers will be willing to make the
necessary mental effort to read it. ([Lu Xun 1930] Lu Hsun 1959: 65)
However, Liang could not see any difference between hard translation and literal
translation. Liang’s essay On Hard Translation starts by declaring distorted transla-
tions better than literal ones.
It is impossible for a translation to be a complete misrepresentation [...] Maybe unfaith-
ful renderings give a wrong idea of the original, but they give the reader something even
though they are mistaken. Even if the wrongness does damage, it is still pleasant to read.
([Lu Xun 1930] Lu Hsun 1959: 68)
Liang argued,
Chinese is unlike other languages—that is what makes translation difficult. If the gram-
mar, syntax and vocabulary of two languages were identical, we should have no trouble
in translating [...] With intelligibility as our prime criterion, there is no harm in chang-
ing the order of sentences, because “making a mental effort” is no fun, and it is doubtful
whether “hard translation” can preserve “the essential style of the original.” Certainly, if
“hard translation” could preserve the essential style of the original that would be a
miracle, and we could not accuse the Chinese language of having “limitations.” ([Lu
Xun 1930] Lu Hsun 1959: 70)
Lu Xun took up the argument by noting the loophole in Liang’s reply,
I am not quite such a fool as to look for a foreign language which is like Chinese
language, or hope that “the grammar, syntax and vocabulary of the two languages will
be identical.” But I believe it is relatively easy to translate from languages which have a
complex grammar. It is relatively easy, too, to translate from a language akin to your
own, although that still requires some effort. Can we say that it is no trouble to translate
Dutch into German or Russian into Polish? Japanese is very different from all European
languages, yet it is gradually acquiring new methods of expression, so that it is easier to
translate now than classical Japanese without losing the flavour of the original. To begin
with, of course, you have to “trace your way through the syntax,” which is far from “fun”
for certain people. But once you are used to this, you assimilate these expressions into
your own language. Chinese grammar is even more deficient than that of classical
Japanese, but it has known changes too. For instance, the languages used in Ssuma
Chien’s Historical Records and the Han History are different from that of the Book of
History, and our modern vernacular is different again. There have been additions and
inventions, as in the Tang Dynasty translations of the emperor’s edicts. At the time,
much of that “grammar, syntax and vocabulary” was new-fangled; but once people got
used to it they could understand it without tracing the words with their fingers. And
now that we are dealing with “foreign languages” we may need many new forms of
construction—which, to put it strongly, have to be made by “hard translation.” In my
experience, you can retain the flavour of the original better by this method than by
rearranging your sentences; but modern Chinese has its limitations because it is still
waiting for new constructions. There is nothing “miraculous” about this. ([Lu Xun
1930] Lu Hsun 1959: 70-71)
The point that Lu Xun was making was that time and patience were required for
readers to accept expressions borrowed from foreign languages. At first, these foreign
expressions might appear quite odd, but people could mentally adapt to the new
images. Therefore for some time we needed hard translations, which would in time
appear less hard to understand.
38 Meta, XLIV, 1, 1999

To the accusations of Liang and others, Lu Xun answered,

And I can say with confidence that I never deliberately distort the meaning of any work.
When it touches critics on the raw, I laugh. When it touches me on the raw, I put up
with it. But I absolutely refuse to make additions or cuts, hence I have always believed
in “hard translation.” In the long run better translators are bound to appear, who
will neither distort the meaning nor give “hard” or “literal” translations; and of course
when that happens my translations will be weeded out. All I am trying to do is fill the
gap between “having none” and “having better” translations. ([Lu Xun 1930] Lu Hsun
1959: 84)
In another article on translation, Lu Xun made his point more manifest, saying that
It is my hope that many excellent translators will emerge in China; however, if this is
unlikely, then all I can do is to give my support to “hard translation.” ([Lu Xun 1933]
Luo Xinzhang 1984: 289)
We can see that there was a reason for Lu Xun’s stubborn adherence to his notion of
“hard translation.” And, indeed, while many instances of such hard translations have
survived into current Chinese language, others have been rejected.
Because Lu Xun was a proponent of literal translation and emphasized that “he
would rather be faithful to the original than be fluent in the translation,” many
people thought that he was against meaning-based free translation and that he him-
self used the literal method throughout the process of translating. But this was not so.
He was for free translation, or at least a combination of both methods. In his “Preface
to Little Peter,” he said:
For the student of a foreign language to start reading fairy tales shortly after he began
to learn would not be improper. However, setting out to translate a fairy tale at this
stage would be an inopportune venture to undertake, because, being straitjacketed by
the original text, the student would not dare give a free rendition and, as a result, the
reader would find it hard to read. This version (itself the translation from the Japanese
translation of the German original) has numerous flaws of this kind, therefore, I altered
the translation at many places during the time of checking, so that it reads much more
smoothly now. ([Lu Xun 1933] Luo Xinzhang 1984: 262-264)
What Lu Xun was talking about in this paragraph was actually a reference to his wife
Xu Guangping’s translation of Little Peter. It only serves to prove that Lu Xun’s
approach to translation methods was not of an extreme literalist.
What we have discussed so far are the views of scholar-writer-translators in
connection with translation criteria and methods of translating. In the following
section, we will learn how the issue is perceived from a stylist’s perspective.

THE STYLISTS’ VIEW

Zhu Shenghao (1912-1944) was the first Chinese translator to attempt to translate
the complete works of William Shakespeare. Though his early death brought the
ambitious project to a halt, his status as a great translator was secured. No writings of
his own about translating Shakespeare remain except for a short “Foreword” (1944)
he wrote for the translated edition of the Complete Theatrical Works of William
Shakespeare. He observed that there had been more cases of translators rendering
“hard” translations of Shakespeare than of more careless work.
 highlights of translation studies 39
titre du chapitre

... the result of rigidly following the grammar of the original will produce a translation
which has lost much of its “spiritual flavour,” and worse still, that has been so abstrusely
and obscurely translated that nobody can understand it. ([Zhu Shenghao 1944] Edito-
rial Board 1984a: 364)
Zhu set out the goals he himself tried to reach:
I will try to retain the spirit of the original as far as I possibly can; if this cannot be
achieved, I will at least try to convey the intentions of the original, using fluent, plain
Chinese; as to word-for-word “hard” translations, I dare not venture to go along with.
([Zhu Shenghao 1944] Editorial Board 1984a: 365)
Apparently Zhu was opposed to the word-for-word method of translating. His main
consideration was not burdening readers with the hard-to-understand grammar of
the alien language.
Wherever the syntax of a sentence in the original text has been found to clash with the
grammar of Chinese, I would always mull it over for hours and days until I came up
with a version which was totally different in construction from the original, so much so
that the intended message of the author had been brought to the foreground without
being blurred by obscure Chinese. ([Zhu Shenghao 1944] Editorial Board 1984a: 365)
How did Zhu actually do this? He was not a rough-and-ready sort of translator.
When he had finished translating a paragraph, he would revise it with the reader in
mind, to see that there were no ambiguities in the paragraph, then read it aloud to
check that the version read smoothly and rhythmically. He would muse over a word
or a sentence for days before making a choice. Although today we can detect errors of
translation here and there in the volumes, these errors appear as occasional blemishes
of a great translator.
Fu Lei (1908-1966), another great translator, shared Zhu Shenghao’s views on
translating. He saw:
differences between two languages in lexicon and syntactic structure, in grammar and
idiomatic usage, in rhetorical devices and sayings—all these differences reflect dissimi-
larities in the modes of thinking of people of different nations, in the range of their
perceptions, in their points of view, in their customs and habits, in their social back-
grounds, and in their means of expression. ([Fu Lei 1951] Editorial Board 1984b: 80)
Because of these differences, Fu concluded that it was impossible “to capture the
linguistic features of a foreign language,” without “disrupting the syntactic structures
and linguistic peculiarities of the mother tongue” ([Fu Lei 1951] Editorial Board
1984b: 80). However, in his “Letter to Lin Yiliang on Translating Novels” (1951), Fu
clarified his point by saying “Not that we can ignore the syntax of the original
altogether. What I mean is that we can keep the original syntax as best we can;
however, the translation, though appearing novel in grammar, should still be intelli-
gible Chinese.” ([Fu Lei 1951] Editorial Board 1984b: 84)
The next significant point Fu Lei raised concerned the style of a translation. He
thought the style of a translation had much to do with the language it used. The style
of a translation would often seem unsatisfactory because the language used in the
text was “false” or “artificial.” Here Fu returned to the issue of whether translators
should use classic or vernacular Chinese (i.e. baihua which is the earlier version of
today’s putonghua, or the standard dialect used throughout China). In Fu’s opinion,
40 Meta, XLIV, 1, 1999

vernacular Chinese is not an ideal medium for translating foreign languages rich in
vocabulary and diversified in syntax. He claimed that classic Chinese had an advan-
tage over the vernacular. In this respect, Fu agreed with Zhou Zuoren (1885-1967),
Lu Xun’s brother, who argued,
By using pianwen (i.e. couplet form which is subject to poetic regulations) intermingled
with sanwen (i.e. prose form which is not constrained by such regulations), it is easier
to produce a work of translation of satisfactory quality—the translation appears intel-
ligible and does not depart from the original text too far in conveying the meaning. ([Fu
Lei 1951] Editorial Board 1984b: 83)
Fu elaborated on Zhou’s argument, saying,
Classic Chinese has a long established system, with accepted rules of composition and a
rich vocabulary as well; whereas vernacular Chinese, having been just brought over
from the folk tongue, has no system nor rules whatsoever to speak of—each and every
writer is groping his own way; the result is a shambles. ([Fu Lei 1951] Editorial Board
1984b: 83)
Fu Lei, Zhou Zuoren and others had good reason to hold this view. However, at a
time when the May Fourth New Culture Movement of 1919 was in full swing, with
the majority of the populace throwing their weight behind it, Zhou’s view was natu-
rally unpopular. Zhou’s views might have been true in his time but are less so today,
given language’s intrinsic propensity to perfect itself over time. Therefore we must
give a dialectical interpretation to that battle of words waged more than half a cen-
tury ago. History often has echoes in modern times and the controversy around the
use of plain Chinese or four-character expressions which is going on today is a
continuation of the earlier debate. One group of translators now advocates the use of
plain, easy to understand forms of language, while another group call for the use of
four-character expressions, most of which are classical expressions inserted into the
word-stock of putonghua over the years—and the borrowing process continues as
writers are constantly digging into the archaic mines of classic language to enrich
their vocabulary. However, I don’t see much point to carrying on this debate.
Whether we should use plain or elevated expressions depends on the context as well
as the style of the original. Le propre mot à la propre place should be our guide to
deciding which words or expressions to employ to match the macro style of the
original work.
Fu Lei, a connoisseur of fine arts, drew an analogy between translating and
painting: “What is desired is not formal but spiritual resemblance” ([Fu Lei 1951]
Editorial Board 1984b: 80). The focus should be on conveying what has given life to
the model being painted on the one hand, and to the original text on the other, rather
than mechanically imitating every single detail while losing sight of the sparks of life.
Many translators of a younger generation take Fu Lei as their model. Fu’s theory of
“spiritual resemblance” has since become the predominant guideline for most trans-
lators in contemporary China.
Qian Zhongshu (1910- ), a preeminent scholar and writer, though not a profes-
sional translator, brought the discussion to a climax by tracing the etymology of “\ ”
[yi], the Chinese word for “translate, translation” to an ancient form made up of
“ ” [wei] and “® ” [hua], with the latter being placed inside the former like this “ ® ”;
this word means “translate,” that is “translate the alien tongues from countries on
 highlights of translation studies 41
titre du chapitre

four horizons and the speeches of birds and animals as well.” According to Xu Shen
(58?-147?), the lexicologist of the East Han Dynasty (25-211), “® ” and “ ® ” were
the same word; and therefore “ \ ” [yi] and “®” [hua] were closely related ([Qian
Zhongshu 1979] Luo Xinzhang 1984: 696). By relating the word “\ ” [yi] to the word
“®” [hua], Qian found the supreme criterion for translation, which is “®” [hua], i.e.
transforming the words of a work written in one language into the words of another
country, without the slightest trace of rigid, awkward translation arising from dis-
crepancies in speech habits or linguistic peculiarities, while at the same time keeping
the stylistic flavor of the original. If a translator can turn out a work of translation of
such excellence, he is considered to have reached the “consummate realm of transmi-
gration” ([Qian Zhongshu 1979] Luo Xinzhang 1984: 696).

NEW WAVE
On August 19th, 1954, Shen Yanbing (1896-1981) delivered a speech at the National
Conference on Literary Translation. As Minister of Culture, Shen was able to com-
mand a more comprehensive view of the situation of literary translation in China. He
acknowledged the contributions of earlier translators and emphasized the positive
role they had played in introducing foreign literature to China, spurring China’s New
Literature Movement. Viewed from this vantage point, Shen saw the urgent need to
translate foreign literary works in order to open the eyes of the Chinese people, and
help build socialist China. Shen formulated several guidelines for translators to work
by, namely, (1) the work of translation must be conducted in an orderly and planned
fashion—translators’ associations at both national and local levels needed to be orga-
nized for this purpose; lists of classics to be translated had to be drafted in order of
literary merit; repetitive translations of the same work by different translators had to
be avoided to save human and financial resources; both professional and part-time
translators needed to be mobilized and organized for this long-term, national project;
(2) literary translation must not be regarded as simply a mechanical process of
turning one language into another, a task which anyone with a little knowledge of a
foreign language can perform; translators, like writers, must have similar experiences
to those of the original authors, so that the translations might sound real; they must
be well trained in the art of creation, always trying to learn new ways of expression
from real life conversations, thereby enriching their language; they must make a
thorough analysis of the author, in term of both thought and style, the society and
historical period in which he lived, the themes of the work, etc. before putting pen to
paper; therefore translation is an art, like writing itself; and (3) the conduct of criti-
cism and self-criticism should become the order of day for the purpose of improving
the quality of translation, cultivating a sense of responsibility on the part of the
translator, the reviser and the managing editor; collective work should be encour-
aged, so that collaborators could pool their skills for better quality translations; ways
and means should be found for bringing up a contingent of younger translators to
meet the demands of the time ([Shen Yanbing 1954] Luo Xinzhang 1984: 501-507).
Dong Qiusi (1899-1969), creator and editor-in-chief of China’s first Translation
Bulletin, wrote an article in 1951 calling for the construction of translation theories.
He refuted the view that translation was simply a craft. He agreed with others in
considering translating as a science in its own right: “That is to say, in the process of
42 Meta, XLIV, 1, 1999

translating one language into another, the translator can find certain objective laws,
which he can go by...” He further suggested,
We should, to begin with, make a study of the linguistic systems of a language, the
features and laws governing its growth; of the contents of each individual discipline and
its format of presentation, experiences of translating of each age and in each country. By
synthesizing the results of our research, we can arrive at a complete system of transla-
tion theories. ([Dong Qiusi 1951] Luo Xinzhang 1984: 536-537)
Dong envisaged two steps towards this end. First, that a “common programme” be
drafted on the study of major issues such as methods of translating, systems of
revision and proofreading, criteria of translation, etc. for adoption by a national
conference on translation. Second, that the government sanctioned agency organize
experts to do six things: (1) write a history of translation in China, (2) introduce
Western books on translation theory to Chinese readers, (3) use scientific linguistic
methods to compare Chinese and foreign languages, (4) conduct translation criti-
cism, (5) sum up experiences of translating, and (6) publish a translators’ journal.
The end products of this national drive would be two books, one on the history of
translation in China, and the other on the translatology of China ([Dong Qiusi 1951]
Luo Xinzhang 1984: 542-543).
Dong’s solution might not have been perfect; but it would give impetus to inter-
ested scholars in their collective or individual efforts to make this blueprint material-
ize. It would be more than three decades before they were able to produce
monographs of academic value on the history of translation and theories of transla-
tion. The reason: the new wave that was emerging in the mid-fifties was interrupted
by a decade of cultural retrogression; the wave rose again with the fall of the radicals.
Books of histories of both Chinese and foreign translation studies, of new theories,
and of teaching materials have been published: China Translators Journal, Chinese
Science and Technology Translators Journal and many other journals have been pub-
lishing scores of articles every year (Shouyi Fan 1994: 151-176). We can surmise that
the next decade will see a fresh spate of publications, which will be more knowledge-
based, more theoretically-oriented, and more reader-friendly.

NOTE
1. According to Yang Shiji, Zhou Guisheng was the first Chinese scholar to introduce Western literature
to China. However, unlike Lin Shu, Zhou could speak both English and French, and he had trans-
lated more works than Lin Shu; but he was overshadowed by Lin’s fame, and forgotten by readers
([Yang Shiji 1946] Luo Xinzhang 1984: 252-257).

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Fan, Shouyi (1991): “Ever Since Yan Fu and His Criteria of Translation”, Translation: Theory and
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—— (1994): “Translation Studies in Modern China: Retrospect and Prospect”, Target, 6 (2),
Amsterdam, John Benjamins.
 highlights of translation studies 43
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Fu, Lei (1984): “Preface to the Retranslated Version of Le Père Goriot”, Selected Essays on Transla-
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